


Love Letter

by Flowers_n_Dragons



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bromance to Romance, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Mutual Pining, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Pining, Slow Burn, Winter At Kaer Morhen, Wolf Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 03:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29288796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flowers_n_Dragons/pseuds/Flowers_n_Dragons
Summary: Jaskier commissions enchanted stationery from Yennefer to confess his feelings to Geralt while they will be separated for the winter. He can't just tell his best friend up front, for fear of rejection and the possibility of losing him as a friend. Nothing can go wrong, right? (Wrong.)Another excuse to write them soft and friendly, with Geralt being adorably in love without realizing it.My Valentine's Day project :)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 15
Kudos: 101





	1. Chapter 1

"I will help you", 

Yennefer uttered nonchalantly to a fidgeting Jaskier, whose blue eyes were haunted by desperation. They were sitting at a small table in the corner of Yennefer's study, which was more akin to a laboratory, full of magical paraphernalia, doused in the light that poured in through large, curtainless windows. The radiant sorceress looked the bard in the eye, perfectly calm and confident. Shocked by her response, he stilled at once, his gaze narrowing. 

"Will you? Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. Not for free, of course. I do have other projects besides you and Geralt's love life and those require funding. So, it would be 200 crowns. Pay up, bard."

Grunting, Jaskier counted out the coins with a monotonous series of clacks, then pushed the pile towards the sorceress, his face dramatically contorting as in great pain.

"Thank you. Pleasure doing business with you." she swept the money nonchalantly into a black velvet bag. 

"Again, why are you helping me confess my feelings to Geralt?"

"Oh I can't believe I have to spell it out for you. I am sick and tired of you two dancing around each other. All those forlorn gazes, all those 'accidental' touching, all that awkward flirting. It's been getting worse year by year. The last time the three of us spent the night together? After you oh so eloquently pleaded for and received my gracious help, then we celebrated our success with saving that village at that lovely inn? Well I am slightly embarrassed to admit that I had to actively seduce him, because after about his fifth mug of ale, he was staring at your behind, instead of this", she elegantly swept her hands in front of her face and chest, "with such intensity I thought it would catch on fire. Great choice of wardrobe, by the way, those breeches really bring out your... Assets", she smirked faintly. 

Jaskier thanked her sheepishly. He tried to recall that particular evening but his memory failed him; he had been spectacularly drunk halfway through his set, so all he could remember was the throbbing headache and upset stomach the following day. Never mind the sympathetic smiles of Geralt as he handed him the water skin not once or twice during the day. Before he could contemplate her words thoroughly, she continued, 

"Of course he was denying everything by next morning but I saw what I saw. Besides and more importantly, for whatever reason, you two are already making an oddly great pair as friends, bringing out the best in each other and it's disgustingly sweet. I have also observed Geralt growing in ways that I have never expected of him, solely on the account of your friendship. I guess I should say thanks for that. 

So by all means, go get him. Make each other happy and all that romantic nonsense. Now, stay there while I prepare your stationery. Don't start wondering around and absolutely no touching my equipment." Her purple glare was just as deterring as her harsh words; she stood up straight then sashayed to the depths of her study, her black dress fluttering around her curls elegantly. Jaskier stayed in his seat, his feet nervously tapping complicated rhythms on the floor.

She returned soon enough, just before his curiosity got the better of him. She sat back on her chair and arranged four envelopes, two sticks of red wax, and a ream of paper on the table in a neat row.

"This is how it works. Listen carefully, I am not going to repeat myself. First, you fill the envelopes with the same amount of paper; fold them any way you like. Next, you take your average quill and ink, and write your love letter. Avoid making corrections with solvents; just cross out your mistakes with ink. Don't spill your tears on it either. Don't look at me like that, we both know that is going to be an issue. When finished and the ink has dried, put the letter back in the envelope. You can write on that as well. Once you seal it with this wax, the writing on both envelope and letter will transfer to its counterpart. I marked the envelopes for you with a buttercup and a wolf head in the corner so you don't mix them up. Once the transfer is complete, the color of both envelopes changes to red. The letter inside the receiving one will have the exact copy of the one written by the sender. However, there is only enough charge in them for one such transmission. Is everything clear? "

"Crystal", he said and tentatively reached for the stationery, but Yennefer slammed her hand on them. 

"Repeat what I just said, Jaskier. You will have to explain how this works to Geralt yourself." He rolled his eyes and repeated her instructions word for word; he did not graduate summa cum laude for nothing, after all. He did not voice his indignance to the sorceress, though.

"Good. You may leave now", she said with a cool, aristocratic satisfaction, then her expression softened, her eyes shining perplexingly kindly, and she added a more friendly "Good luck, Jaskier." 

He nodded back with a similar smile, stood up, gathered his newly acquired magical wares and stuffed them into the bag that was sitting on the floor.

"Thank you and farewell, Yennefer."

He strode to the door and stepped out into the golden afternoon. He closed his eyes before setting out on the road toward, breathing in the crisp air of autumn, enjoying the feeble rays of sun that caressed his face. He sighed heavily; the thorny vines of doubt yet again began to pickle and prod at his soul ; he started to hum a merry tune to keep them at bay. There was no going back; he finally had a means to confess his truest, deepest feelings without fear of tangling his tongue, of his stream of words averting their course, of his language turning cryptic or blooming with the roses of poetry, which would merely serve as a means to confuse his dearest witcher. Leagues between them (and 200 crowns that should have gone to a new outfit or two) said, he would not chicken out like a dozen times before. There would not be gorgeous, trusting eyes and friendly smiles, with a glint of a canine in their seam, distracting and disheartening him, reminding him of just how much he could lose - a friendship that took tremendous effort and more than a decade to weave from their slightly mismatched threads, but they somehow did, creating a tapestry that was the sole background and one of the greatest treasures of Jaskier's life. 

He wanted the tapestry to be worked over with a new thread, crimson with emotion and desire. If Geralt, however, did not care for it, he could (probably) handle the rejection better in writing; he wouldn't have to embarrass himself with his tears, or even worse, being sent on his separate way, with vile words spouting from those lovely lips he'd dreamt of kissing all his adult life. The rejection letter would be simple and straightforward, maybe even courteous and a little sad, asking politely to part ways for good. Then, Jaskier would be able to plan out his new life, without his witcher friend. And if he would be amenable, then it would be sweet, warm, kind and of course, straightforward and he would read it a million times before they could finally reunite in the spring. They would meet like they had many times, yet unlike they had ever done either, and they would embrace and kiss as lovers do, awkward but eager, still covered by the dirt of travel. Nevertheless, it would be the sweetest first kiss of his life... His lips tingled and his heart thumped wildly at the fantasy. Yes, this letter had been a great idea, he affirmed himself, and he began to sing cheerfully, loud and clear as he treaded the road that led to the inn he and Geralt had been staying at. 

Their parting for the winter came the next day. Both of them were silent as they finished their last meal together, stealing short glances of each other as they ate their scrambled eggs and bacon, committing every single lift of the fork, every little gesture, every flash of an eye to memory. 

For it was not just Jaskier who did this. Geralt had a hard time to admit to himself how fond he became of Jaskier. How the thought of their habitual separation shrouded his heart in a black cloud, which could not be pierced through even by the thought of meeting his pack, his family. He had become a first and only best friend for him, his smiles and humor and beauty.... of words and voice, he hastily added, along with his immeasurable kindness shining at him, a witcher.... of course one would miss someone special and precious like that, he rationalized and out down his fork to look yet again into twinkling cornflower blue eyes, and his lips curled upward bitterly. He would not gaze into them, seeing friendship and understanding in their depths, until spring. That was it; he will miss his best friend so much, of course he was moody and distraught. Delighted with having made sense of his feelings, he put the fork in his hand to continue devouring the contents of his plate.

The breakfast was finished way too fast, along with the last of the packing.

Having fed and checked on Roach, then on Jaskier's bags, to make sure he has everything needed, Geralt deemed themselves ready to begin their separate, arduous journeys. 

Thus, he two of them stood solemnly in front of the inn, face to face, for their final goodbyes.

"Geralt, I am going to miss you so much!" Jaskier wailed and hugged Geralt, throwing himself against his armored body, memorizing the feel of him with nerve and muscle, breathing him in deeply, smelling his own chamomille soap, leather, musk, with just a hint of an autumn forest underneath all; in short, wonderfully and uniquely like Geralt. 

In turn, Geralt wound his arms around Jaskier's form. Jaskier felt terrifyingly natural and _perfect_ in his embrace. His heart and mind were awash with confusion again. He knew he should have said something, oh how he knew it. But all that he could manage was an overwhelmed

"Hmmmm."

Jaskier chuckled. "That was a 'Me too' if I have ever heard one, my dear witcher. Sooo...." he trailed off as he pulled away to rummage in his bag. "I wanted to give you something. It's... A gift." 

He handed the magical envelopes to him with trembling hands.

"I commissioned these from Yennefer. Enchanted stationery to... Keep in touch. Sorry, I only had enough money for two pair, meaning one letter each." He continued with the detailed explanation, gesticulating wildly throughout.

A billowing cloud of downy feathers settled in the hollow of Geralt's chest while he stared at his bard. His best friend wanted to be able to reach him during the winter, just for the sake of keeping in touch.

He payed close attention to every word he said, after all he deserved that for all the trouble he went through, but those feathers made it quite difficult.

"Thank you, friend. You are gifting me your words....Basically your thoughts, your..." he searched for the right expression; he wanted to say 'yourself', but that sounded too much, so he went with: "part of your mind to me and that.... I truly don't know what to say. No one has ever offered me that." On a whim, he reached out and gingerly swept a wayward strand of soft, brown hair out of Jaskier's eyes. His ears picked up the increase in the bard's heart rate, which was strange, but he decided not to comment on it. 

"I shall be waiting for your letter. Send it a month or so after Yule, those are the dreariest of days, when winter seems never-ending. It will be akin to a promise of spring." 

Jaskier suppressed a shiver, both from the touch and the poetic words. 

"Then I shall write to you then, and wait impatiently for your reply." He gazed into Geralt's amber cat eyes, barely suppressing his longing, biting his bottom lip, then quickly averted his eyes lest he did or said something silly, like kiss his witcher friend goodbye. "See you in the spring, my friend."

He figured a clasp on the arm would be appropriate, so he raised his hand to do just that, but he was interrupted: Geralt bridged the small distance separating them and pulled him into an awkward but sincere hug, whispering" Farewell, my friend. Teach those bardlings how it's done", and oh if it wasn't the greatest compliment he ever got from him.

"I shall. Have a safe journey and give my best regards to your family. I know I don't know them personally but..." he said, tearing himself away with tremendous effort. He stepped back, just to make sure Geralt does not pull him in like the magnet he was. 

"I will. Keep out of trouble, bard." Geralt raised his hand in a final parting gesture, accompanied by a cheeky smile. He climbed into the saddle and Jaskier watched him gallop into the sunrise; it was sickeningly kitch and cliché yet he couldn't help following the gradually disappearing silhouette of horse and rider. "Farewell, love", he whispered to himself and set out himself, humming a ballad about forbidden love, with the smell of Geralt in his lungs. 

The professorship in Oxenfurt went without a glitch ; the students loved his lectures and seminars, his colleagues were mostly interesting conversationalists, so he couldn't complain. As for life outside the Academy's gates, well, the bustling atmosphere of the city pulled him in, as it was wont to do each year. Yet at the end of the day, he oft caught himself turning to his left or right, drawing a deep breath to regale his friend with his adventures, only to find no amber eyes looking at him with curiosity (or annoyance, as it still happened from time to time). "Oh right." He would mumble and his heart would twist just slightly.

The festivities of Yule came, with sparkle, merriment, and the feeling of being miserably alone. Not for a lack of potential conquests either; he was flirted with and propositioned by many lovely ladies and handsome gentlemen throughout his Oxenfurt days, yet with Geralt's smile etched into his memories, they all seemed terribly lackluster in comparison. 

His hands often wandered to the handle of the drawer just under the top of his desk, where the stationery from Yennefer was hidden, especially after having imbibed more wine than he should have. Head throbbing, stomach twisting with longing, or maybe just too much alcohol and too little food, he would imagine a large, soothing hand on his brow or a deep, raspy voice scolding him for overindulging, without any actual malice, and his trembling fingers itched to spill the crimson ink of his yearning into those magicked sheets.

Two weeks after Yule, on a dreary, grey-washed day, he finally gave in and started composing his love letter, on a regular sheet of paper. He wanted it to be perfect, both in content and style. There was just too much at stakes for a misunderstanding over a word or for confusion because of a vague metaphor. He scribbled and cried, crossed entire lines with shouts, even burned a particularly awful-sounding page. A fortnight of his evenings spent thusly on his task, and he was yet to arrive at a satisfactory version.

Fuck. 

Screw perfection. It's going to be a heartfelt, almost spontaneous confession,or at least as much as it can be called that after two weeks of mulling over it. He set out the stationery, dipped a new quill in the ink pot and let his thoughts flow straight from his mind to the tip of his fingers and onto the paper. 

"Dearest Geralt, 

I hope my letter finds you safe and sound. I have been doing fine, not getting into any trouble, just like you asked. I also hope you have been enjoying the company of your family and you all got a decent rest after your perilous year walking and fighting on your respective Paths.

Oxenfurt has been kind to me, as per usual. I won't bore you with the details. I teach, perform, compose and do research for a book on poetry. My students and colleagues are quite delightful, for the most part, so I should say I am not lacking in companionship. But that would not be farther from what I actually feel. 

I miss you dearly.

I shall be completely honest and as direct as I can. I have asked for this set of stationery for one purpose : to confess my feelings. 

Geralt, dearest, I have been harboring a love for you that goes far beyond the boundaries of friendship. 

Every waking moment, and most of the sleeping ones, I desire to be not just your best friend, a companion on the road, but your lover, a partner in every way imaginable. 

You have given me so much, dearest. Not just material for my songs, although indeed you are my greatest muse, too. You have shown me your kind, noble soul; you have given me your trust. It was such a journey to earn that, but it was well worth it, every moment of it. 

Yet, for some time, I have found myself greedy for more. I want there to be more behind your kind words, your rare but brilliant smiles, our banter, or the silence around the campfire before you pull me into your warm embrace, to keep the cold of the night away from me. I want the drive behind those actions to be not fraternal but romantic love. 

If you find it in your beautiful heart to love me that way, I shall be the happiest man on the Continent. I would remain your best friend, rest assured, and above that, you would have my heart, my soul and my body; I shall strive to bring you pleasure with every moment spent with you, carnal or otherwise. I will not make any more promises than that, and I would not push you for making them, either. I will also refrain, for now, from waxing poetic about every little aspect of your person, although I could fill not one but shelves of books with phrases of adoration and I will lavish them upon you personally if you care for them (and most likely even if you don't, but you know me, dearest.) 

Please note that in case you do not return my feelings, I shall not force myself upon you in any way, shape or form. Won't even talk about it, not a sound. I understand if this love letter makes you uncomfortable or repulsed. Should you wish for your pining friend to never see you again, I will honor that wish and will let you go, cherishing forever the memories of the best years of my life; years I would not have spent any other way but by your side. 

Please feel free to take your time with your reply. I will be waiting patiently but eagerly. In case you don't answer, I shall assume you would not want to wound me with mean words in parting, therefore I shall alter my plans for the spring and the seasons to come accordingly. 

With unfaltering love and never-ending friendship, 

Jaskier"

He read it through twice, making tiny corrections before he deemed the letter finished. Once the ink had completely dried, he put the precious sheets in the envelope, sealed it and watched with wonderment as it turn red. 

He leaned back in his chair, tipping his head back with eyes closed and sighed, the air escaping his lungs with a long, loud huff. 

His love letter had been sent to Geralt. Now all he could do was wait.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh, Jaskier would love this." Geralt mumbled while chewing his venison. The meat was juicy, seasoned lightly with thyme, crispy on the outside, tender inside.... When he closed his eyes he could practically hear his friend's little satisfied moan after swallowing a morsel he put in his mouth with that elegant hand of his... 

On the other side of the table, Eskel and Lambert shared a knowing look then the former wiggled his left eyebrow, to which latter answered with a smirk, then rolled his eyes dramatically. 

They thought their brother didn't notice. 

He did. 

"What now?" His brothers were clearly up to some shenanigans. Did they spike his food again? He took another bite, chewing it more and swirling the pulp around his mouth, letting his sensitive taste buds do their work. No, they probably didn't, he concluded, it tasted perfectly normal. 

"Nothing." Lambert tried to be non-chalant, with little success. 

"Speak up. There is something." Geralt stared at them with his most intimidating frown, snarling for good measure too, which usually worked on his bard, but didn't do much for two similarly intimidating-looking witchers. 

Eskel gave up. It had been going on for long enough, after all. He sighed deeply before starting what would probably develop to be the most uncomfortable yet absolutely necessary conversation of the winter. 

"Geralt, have you noticed how often do you talk about Jaskier?" 

"What do you mean? He is my best friend, who the fuck should I be talking about? The bloody aldermen that try to cheat me out of my contract fee, or the tavern wenches I met on the Path?" He didn't know why he got so defensive and angry. 

"Geralt, brother. Just today, you've mentioned him about fifteen..." Lambert trailed off, asking for help with his eyes from the larger witcher. 

"... It was twenty-one, Lambert. In the library, he told me not one but two stories of him, then took a volume of poetry especially because he found a ballad in it that the bard performed often. He was fucking humming as he took it to his room, too." 

"Are you counting how many times I say my friend's name?" Geralt's face and voice darkened with rising rage. Suddenly he did not feel hungry anymore; he pushed the plate to the right. 

" Oh no. We are having a running bet on it." Lambert blurted out with a shit-eating grin before Eskel could stop him.

"What? You little prick..." Geralt stood, menacing, and was about to tackle the youngest witcher when the weight of a familiar hand on his shoulder made him snap out of it. 

"Calm down, Geralt and sit back." Eskel's voice was soothing but dead serious.

He obeyed. Eskel sat by him, a hand on his arm. 

"I apologize. It was probably in bad taste. Your falling in love is not a joke indeed." 

"My what?" his voice rose again. He had no idea what Eskel was talking about. 

"Geralt, please. Hear us out. The last couple of winters, you have been telling us about him more and more. But this winter? Ever since you set foot in the keep, it's Jaskier this, Jaskier that. The first week you were miserable, depressed and irritable, and when drunk, on the verge of crying, lamenting how you missed him. You even made up a new verse for Toss a Coin. It was terrible and thank the gods that we all forgot most of it by now. 

When doing chores or training, you are randomly smiling or even chuckling, and when questioned, all you would say that you just remembered your bard's shenanigans. 

Whatever you do, somehow by the third sentence the latest, his name would come up in some context. 

Geralt, these are not things one does when separated from their friend. 

This is what lovers do. "

"I would not know. I have never really been in love. I mean I may have been with Yennefer, sure, but with her it's always been complicated, you know the story. Fuck he is my first real, close friend who is not a witcher. I don't even know how normal friendships supposed to work." His anger slowly evaporated, only for confusion to take its place, making his words unsure. 

"Well do you think of Lambert and I all the time when on the Path?"

"Sometimes, of course. I talk about you to... Fuck. I did it again, didn't I? "

"See? Do you think about him.... When alone, too? "

"Before I fall asleep, I find it.... Soothing to think of his smell and his heartbeat and warmth, remembering how we would sleep together." The memory of Jaskier sleeping against his chest smoothed his frown into a mellow expression. 

"You would do what with him?" Lambert almost shouted, eyes bulging out from their socket, eyebrows near touching his hairline. 

"Sleep together?" Geralt had no idea what shocked him so much. "When camping, if it's cold I keep him warm. Sharing body heat. He is a fragile human, I don't want him to get sick. And if there's only one bed left at inns, we just share." 

"You are joking." Lambert was still unbelieving. 

"No, why would I? It's nothing like...." Geralt realized what Lambert was implying. "We are clothed. We talk a little, well him doing most of the talking, then just sleep. He's never done anything...I never thought of it like that..." 

"But thinking of him in your arms makes you feel..." Eskel pushed him some more. Damn his dearest brother was awful with emotions. 

"Safe. And.... Warm. And he's just so pretty when he sleeps. " A besotted smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Lambert rolled his eyes but Eskel gave him a death glare so he contained his further comments. 

"Geralt you do realize you just called your bard pretty?" Eskel asked as warmly as he possibly could. 

"Yes. Because he is. He has these cornflower blue eyes and those soft brown locks that are usually all over the place and fuck I have fallen in love with my bard, haven't I?" Geralt buried his face in his open palms, supporting his head's weight on his elbow. His slow heartbeat quickened, its rhythm falling apart. He felt a dizziness that was simultaneously terrifying and uplifting. 

"It seems like you have. "Eskel gently patted him on the shoulder. 

" Oh fuck, what do I do?"

" You meet him in the spring and tell him how you feel?" Eskel offered. 

" Oh no, that is not happening. What will he say? There is no way he'd... I'm a... a witcher, and he is the most beautiful creature that has ever walked the Continent... " his words tumbled against each other as his heart filled with the images of his radiant bard, his friend, his... Love? The word slammed into the pool of his mind, resulting in a wave of panic surging through him. His breathing turned ragged, his gaze bewildered. 

Eskel tried soothing him with hand and words. 

"Geralt? He is most likely also in love with you." 

"How would you know? "

" From your stories. And from the fact that he has been walking the Path with you, a witcher, for.... " Eskel seemed so sure of himself, Geralt had to cut him off. 

"But he never said a word! Surely he would have..." 

"Oh, 'surely' ? Why would you not confess, again? The real answer, Geralt. Breath and think." 

In a gargantuan effort to regain his self-control, Geralt closed his eyes, and did as told,just inhaled and exhaled, letting his brothers' calming presence assuage his panic." Because... I would not want to lose my best friend in case...Oh fuck." 

"Exactly."

Geralt's head reeled. This whole conversation was becoming too much, too fast. Facing the nature of his feelings was quite tolling in itself, but the thought that Jaskier might feel similarly. .. Might have been feeling.... But now he's so fucking far... 

"I.... I think I need to kill something. A practice dummy or two." He jumped up and bolted through the door, lunch forgotten. 

Lambert entered the training room they used in the dead of the winter, just as Geralt was finishing off his first "enemy", straw and dust swirling in a cloud about him as he pirouetted then delivered his final blow.

"He had it coming, huh?" He remarked as he rested his back against the wall, arms folded in front of his chest. 

"What do you want?" The white-haired man didn't even look at him. He pulled his sword out of the dummy and began his attack on the second, about six paces to the left. 

"Funny, I could ask you the same thing. No, don't growl. I'm not gonna press you emotionally. That's Eskels's shit and he does a mighty good job with it too. I'll have one sentence for you. You do whatever the fuck you want, Geralt, your bard and you." 

Geralt stopped whacking the" torso" of the poor straw-man, but kept facing away from his brother. 

"Go on." 

"The way I see it, you two have been doing whatever you wanted, for the most part, I mean relationship-wise. A witcher and a bard, as friends, that's not living by the rules and I fucking respect you for it. So what if there is more? You wanna hold his hand and kiss him all tender and shit, all you need is his permission and no-one else's. You wanna fuck him, or have him fuck you? If you both want that, who's there to say you can't? You wanna keep your relationship on the level of friendship? That's great if he's fine with that ! It's just the two of you who make the rules. So yeah, I think that's what you should do once you meet him. Make your own rules. With him, at least, you can. "

Geralt turned to respond, but his brother was already gone. 

That night, he took down the magic stationary to the common room after dinner. The three of them have already started drinking Lambert's infamous moonshine, maybe that's why he felt bold enough to show it. 

"What's that?" Eskel perked up instantly. 

"Jaskier gave them to me. He wanted to keep in touch. They are enchanted." He passed them to his brother's hands for inspection. 

"I can feel that." Eskel examined the stationery, turning it over and smoothing his hand over the paper. " I take it it's Yennefer's work. Anyway that's so sweet of him. " He winked and Geralt groaned. "Why haven't you used it?" 

"The envelope can only send a letter once. I told him to write me one first. A month after Yule or so." 

"You could write regardless. Tell him how you miss him, how you feel? It might be easier than doing face to face." 

"Maybe that's why Jaskier gave them to you... " Lambert mused. "Pour his heart out while he is not in your... Intimidating presence?" 

"Hmmmmm. I honestly have no idea. Half the time I have no clue why he does the things he does." He downed his drink, wincing from the taste. 

"Well you have only a week or so to be anxious about it. Will you tell us what's in it?" Eskel asked as he handed back the stationery. 

"If it's of your concern, yes. Now. I'm taking these back to safety. Then Gwent?"

"Hell yes. Prepare, lover boy, for a spectacular ass-whooping." Lambert exclaimed as he also downed what was in his cup. 

Geralt did indeed lose, which should not have surprised him; getting drunk made him think of not the game but cornflower blue eyes, elegant, long fingers and pink lips that would look spectacular doing various delightful things...things not done by friends. 

Needless to say, the time he spent in the company of his brothers in the following days was limited. Neither Eskel nor Lambert called him out on it, for which he was grateful. He was, however, further conflicted by his body's yearning; he did not know if Jaskier would be open to his advances at all, so what would he do with this attraction if Jaskier wanted to remain friends? It would be more than awkward in so many situations... 

It was in this great trepidation that his eyes caught sight of the enchanted envelope turning red. He was lying on his bed, reading, or at least trying to, the envelope sitting on a shelf to his right. 

His heart threatened to jump out of his ribcage. 

What could be in it? A confession, like Eskel hinted? Or a fun recollection of the bard's winter so far? Or maybe a story of how Jaskier finally found someone he could see himself settling down with.... 

There was only one way to find out. 

He stood, then grabbed and opened the envelope; with trembling hands, he pulled out the letter itself. His heart melted at once, seeing the familiar script of Jaskier.

He began reading, still standing. 

By the fourth paragraph, he had to sit down. The fifth made him shout so loud, his brothers came running to his door. 

"Geralt what's wrong?" Lambert yelled. 

"Nothing. Everything." his voice hitched. Eskel tore the door open and rushed in. Geralt, with the letter still in his hand, threw himself at him, the larger man barely able to keep themselves upright, then he was kissed all over his face then hugged bone-crushingly tight. 

"He loves me! He says he loves me! You were right he...oh come here Lambert!"

The youngest wolf was given a similar treatment as Eskel, which he begrudgingly suffered through. 

"Okay, out, the two of you." Geralt shooed them out after he was done with the hugging. "I have not finished reading it. You get the best wine from the cellar while I do that. We are celebrating together tonight."

" As opposed to... alone? " The youngest man smirked and wiggled his eyebrows knowingly. 

"Oh fuck you Lambert. Just go get the wine. And I will make up new verses for my beloved's song and you will all listen." 

His brothers having left, Geralt read Jaskier's love letter not once but three times before leaving his room to celebrate, with fireworks in his chest and a huge grin on his face. 

The next day, hungover yet smiling, he decided to start composing his answer. He brought the magic stationery with him to the library; there was a fire burning in the hearth, probably courtesy of Eskel. He set his papers on a desk that was close to it, along with quill and ink, and began writing with enthusiasm on a regular sheet of paper. He was almost at the bottom of the page when a gust of wind swept across the room. Before he had a chance to react, the envelope took to the air, and flew right into the flames, burning to ashes like a small, white phoenix under the witcher's horrified gaze. 

Geralt froze. 

The ink from the quill's end spilled on the paper, a black pool on white. 

Then there was a scream. 

Then blackness. 

Geralt woke to the soft words of his brother. His mind was fuzzy, like he just came up from under water. The world was still out of grasp but slowly, the memories seeped back. The flames eating through paper, a desk tumbling across the floor, books pouring down the shelves.... 

"Can you hear me? How are you, brother?" 

"Yes.... Not good. The library.... Did you use Axii on me? 

" I'm sorry, brother. You were beside yourself. You were about to tear down the whole keep. We brought you to your room once you were under my control. I would never... "

" I know. You were right to do that. Thank you for taking care of me. It must have been a sight." Geralt muttered sheepishly, eyes downcast. 

"It was. It will take a while to clean up and sort out the mess..." 

"I will help. The envelope..." 

"Yes, I know." 

"What will I do? He says if I don't reply, he will... Eskel.... I can't let him think I would not want to see him ever again." He was on the verge of hysteria. 

"Ssssh, don't panic. What were his exact words? 

"Just read it yourself. There's nothing.... Intimate in it. It's the last paragraph. "

Eskel picked up the letter and perused it, clearly trying to read between the lines as well. 

" Hmmm. So he says, "I shall assume you would not want to wound me with mean words in parting. I shall alter my plans for the spring and the seasons to come accordingly." So he would think you would part with him for good. What does your bard do when not with you on the Path?"

"He is a visiting professor at Oxenfurt." Geralt sat up. " Hmmmm. He might stay there; he said the dean had been offering an actual professorship for years, but he had been refusing it.... But.... He might get an offer for a court position, too. He is very popular with the nobles and kings. He kept declining all those invitations in favor of... 

"Staying in your company?" 

"Yes. Fuck...he really loves me and I was such an IDIOT!" He beat his fist into the mattress.

"There is not much else to do but wait for the thaw." Eskel tried placating him. "I think you should start looking for him in Oxenfurt. Even if he'll have decided to go somewhere else, you may find some information where he is headed." 

"If he would even want to see me again...." Geralt sighed, utterly dejected. 

"He will. You will explain what happened. He will forgive you and you will...." 

"Fuck each other silly?" Geralt supplied with a smile. 

"I was going to say kiss, but that works too." he smiled back. "Now, you said you would help with the mess in the library. If you are feeling better." 

"Sure. I am better. Let's go." 

The next couple weeks went by excruciatingly slowly. Although he did not have to be put under Axii again, Geralt had anxiety attacks and angry fits so often, he could hardly be left alone. Not to mention the depressive periods when all he did was stare out the windows or lie in his bed. Fortunately he was taken care of by his pack and even managed to put together a small speech of apology to Jaskier. 

Eventually, the day came when the passes were deemed clear enough. Having said his goodbyes, he could not descend fast enough, but he was mindful to not push Roach or himself lest he never arrived at Jaskier's feet. 

Once past the Killer and the mountain paths, however, he tested his and his horse's limits, stopping for the shortest possible periods for rest. As he neared Oxenfurt, his mind was teetering on the verge of madness. What will Jaskier say? What will he do? How will he look? What will he smell like? Will he even be there? Will he be kind and forgiving, or cruel and hostile? He had no way of telling. He kept reciting his love letter to keep his hopes and spirits up. 

He passed the gates of the Academy on a sunny, cheerful afternoon,the city abuzz with life and merriment and.... Music? He had already left Roach in the care of a seemingly capable stable boy, having made sure she was pampered. 

He listened to the sounds travelling in the air. It was a lute ; then the melancholic melody was joined by the loveliest of voices and he ran with all the strength he could find in his sore limbs, for the singer couldn't be anyone else but Jaskier, his bard, his friend, his unproclaimed love. 

Sitting on the edge of the fountain, clad in a crimson doublet and matching trousers, Jaskier poured out his heart anew in song. He didn't plan on this impromptu performance, but the beauty of spring, the trees abundant with pink and white petals, the birds chirping wildly and joyously of love and new life, it was just too much.... he could not keep his sorrow to himself or it would have surely consumed him.

He'd hoped he would be in his witcher's arms by this time of the year, or at least by his side, but alas, it was not to be. 

He'd stare at the enchanted envelope for one week in hope, then a week in dread, then he shoved it to the bottom of his junk drawer and made an appointment with the dean to discuss his employment at the Academy. He'd been upset and angry, at Geralt then at himself then just... Then it had been just the hollow, bitterly spasming feeling of a broken heart. He'd had his music to keep him company through it all, at least. 

So he strummed at his lute again, imagining for a moment how his beloved Geralt should have been the one ruffling his hair instead of the wind racing through the little square, and began singing. 

Halfway through his song, he picked up the sounds of heavy, thudding footsteps. He turned left, in the direction of the noise and his arms stilled. 

The White Wolf. Geralt of Rivia. He came dashing, disheveled and covered in the dust and sweat of gods know how many days of travel, right toward him. 

His throat constricted. 

No. He wasn't ready. He never will be. 

He stood up and walked in the opposite direction. 

"Jaskier!" He didn't even flinch. 

"Jaskier, stop!" He smirked; as if. 

"To your never-ending friendship, I beg of you..."

Jaskier stilled. 

In five seconds, the witcher was right behind him; he could hear his ragged breath. Still, he didn't move. 

"Jaskier." Geralt began, his breathing heavy, the words shaking with emotion and lack of air. "I also harbor a love for you that goes far beyond the boundaries of friendship. Every waking moment, and most of the sleeping ones, I desire to be not just your best friend, a companion on the road, but your lover...." 

"Why didn't you reply?" Jaskier cut him off, his voice cold. 

"I wanted to. I was stupid.... The envelope flew into the fireplace... 

"Am I supposed to believe that? "

" No. You can believe whatever you want. I'm sorry. For being careless. And for... For being careless with you too. I didn't know what I felt, what we had was already much more than friendship. I am terrible at emotions ; you wrote that I have a beautiful heart.... I don't. But it is beating for you. For your forgiveness, for your smile, for your.... "

"You have been working on this speech, haven't you?" the timbre of his voice went softer. 

"From the moment I woke up after the envelope burned to ashes." 

"Woke up?" 

"I... might have trashed the library in my rage. Eskel had to sedate me with Axii...." 

"Now I believe you." A small noise akin to a chuckle bubbled out of Jaskier. 

"Jaskier, please turn around." Geralt pleaded. 

He did. 

Geralt, his Wolf was kneeling right at his feet. But the gesture alone was not what made him forgive every moment of sorrow ; no. It was on his face, his dirt-streaked, distressed face and most importantly, in his eyes, brimming with pure love. 

"Can you forgive me, my friend?" 

"I forgive you, my love." Jaskier lifted his hand; he swept some wayward locks from Geralt's eyes, so gently the witcher shivered. "Get up. Follow me." He all but sprinted away. 

Bewildered, Geralt clambered up and ran after him. 

The bard led the witcher to a tiny, secluded garden, wedged between two buildings, with a magnificent magnolia tree in full bloom in the middle. 

He took Geralt's hand and stepped right in front of the tree. 

"Whenever I would pass this garden, I thought that I would love to have our first kiss here.... Beginning of spring, magnolias, my handsome witcher holding my hand..." 

Geralt stepped closer, holding both of Jaskier's hands in his own. 

"What else?"

"You looking at me just like this, right before", Jaskier whispered. Geralt took one more step, their noses almost touching, as he gazed into the blue orbs with all the longing he had felt. 

"Like this?" he whispered back. 

"Exactly." Jaskier bridged the little gap between them, his soul bursting with a new, sweet melody as his lips landed on his beloved's. Their kiss was soft, tentative and objectively, average, even awkward, their breath not exactly fresh either. 

It was absolutely perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this not so little romantic drabble and you didn't get a heart attack at the envelope burning ✉️🔥 couldn't resist to have some ANGST mwhahaha. ♥️


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